<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Inversion by Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273326">Inversion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox/pseuds/Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox'>Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Penumbra Podcast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Benzaiten Steel Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, juno does not</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:27:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox/pseuds/Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can you state your name once again for the record?”</p><p>“Benzaiten Steel.” </p><p>“And, uh, I know it’s obvious, but your connection to the deceased?” </p><p>“Juno was my twin brother.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benzaiten Steel &amp; Juno Steel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>122</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Juno died on a Tuesday.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Ben had been out late, coerced into teaching some extra moves even though his shift had technically ended. He hadn’t thought about Juno once, why would he? Juno was fine, in his new apartment outside of Oldtown, in his new job down at the precinct, and Ben? Ben was having a good time. One of his coworkers, the new one, the pretty one, wanted to learn some aerials, so Ben stayed. Ben stayed, and smiled, and flirted, and by the time he left, it was already two hours later than usual. He hadn’t cared; it was better, sometimes, to get back home later, when Ma was already passed out in her room, with booze on her breath. Ma was always better in the mornings than she was at night.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When he got back home, practically skipping as he walked, high on dancing and flirting and the pretty coworker’s comm number tucked into his pocket, the HCPD was already there. But even that hadn’t set him off—it was Oldtown, the cops were always around, it was probably just the neighbors getting busted for their 89th misdemeanor, or the other neighbors getting busted for illegal substance possession. He didn’t even worry. But then the crowd of cops just got thicker as he made his way closer and closer to their apartment and they were coming out of their door and God what if something happened to Ma—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He pushed his way past the officers, ignoring the cries of <em>hey, get back here</em>, and <em>this is an active crime scene,</em> because there were times when Ma’d hurt herself, before, and her prescriptions had changed and he wasn’t really sure of all the new side effects yet, and his mind had been running through all sorts of worst case scenarios before he got inside and—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Ma was fine. Ma was fine, completely unharmed, shouting at a police officer who was struggling to handcuff her. But—if ma was fine, then why—what was with all of the police—he turned his head and looked around and.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was Juno. There was Juno, on the ground, covered in blood and not moving, chalk drawn around his body like this was some sort of crime stream, and Ben couldn’t breathe. Ben couldn’t breathe, and this couldn’t be happening, and maybe some creep slipped some sort of nightmare hallucinogen into his drink back at Vicky’s because this couldn’t be real. Ma wouldn’t—Juno couldn’t—this couldn’t be real.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Some detective was talking to him, saying something he couldn’t make out or couldn’t understand or some combination of the two. He felt like he was in a daze. He couldn’t think. This couldn’t be real, this wasn’t right, this wasn’t happening. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Ma’s voice managed to cut through everything else, somehow, and whether that was some kind of ingrained reaction or just the timing, he wasn’t sure. Juno probably would’ve said it was ingrained reaction, survival instinct or something—God, Juno. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ben!” Ma was calling, but he didn’t look at her. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Juno’s body on the ground. Juno wasn’t even supposed to be here, tonight. Why was he here? Why wasn’t he in his new apartment, away from Oldtown, away from Ma, and Ben, and god, why didn’t Ben come home earlier tonight? He should’ve. If he’d been home, he could’ve fixed things. He always fixed things. Ma never went too far when Ben was there, so why—? He felt sick.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sir, we’re going to have to ask you—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He took my pills, Ben!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Cause of death looks simple, one blast straight to the chest…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The room spun. He couldn’t think. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He didn’t remember much after that. </span>
</p><hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The days moved slowly after that, but disjointedly, like a shaken bottle of thick Venusian nectar: sickly and spinning in multicolor, leading to the worst hangover in the galaxy. It felt like he spent days being questioned by the HCPD, felt like hours staring out the window of Juno’s apartment as Ben packed up his things. It felt like a blur of Hyperion’s neon lights, Mick crying into his shoulder, and the silence. So much silence. Ben hadn’t heard this much silence in his life, Ben hadn’t <em>been</em> this silent in his life. Juno had always been the quiet one, at least between the two of them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can you state your name once again for the record?” The officer in front of him said. Ben wished it was Sasha who was doing this. It would’ve been easier, maybe, to get through everything if it had been Sasha. But Sasha was too close to the family, or some other reason, and so Benzaiten was left with some random officer handling his case. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Huh. His case. He sounded like Juno, or maybe some PI straight out of the streams. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Benzaiten Steel.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “And, uh, I know it’s obvious, but your connection to the deceased?” </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Juno was my twin brother.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Sorry,” they said. “Formalities. Anyway, Mr. Steel, we just wanted to inform you that your brother’s killer has been apprehended, and a court date has been set…We here at the HCPD would like to apologize for your loss. Detective Steel was a good man.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> The words rang hollow. Juno hadn’t liked most of his coworkers, as far as Ben knew, and they hadn’t really liked him back. The condolences couldn’t be more stereotypical if they tried, and Ben…Ben felt so tired. “If that’s all, officer,I’m going to go home now.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> Home. The word felt strange, now. He had sold the old place; he couldn’t live there, anymore. Vicky let him sleep in the backroom of the Valley, and even let him have a couple of weeks off, so long as he didn’t tell the other dancers. She could be a lot nicer than she pretended to be, sometimes, but Juno would’ve just said it was because Ben who was asking.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Juno could be like that, sometimes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He stepped out of the HCPD station and onto the pavement. He should probably pack up Juno’s apartment, he figured vaguely, now that the investigation was over and done with. He had stopped in once before, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch anything. He supposed he’d have to, now. It wasn’t like Ben could afford to pay the rent on two apartments in Hyperion, not on a Vixen’s salary, and he couldn’t stay in Vicky’s backroom forever. Time had to go on. Even if he didn’t feel like it should.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He sighed, and made his way in the direction of the valley. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> …only to collide with what appeared to be the smallest human fireball known to man. “MISTAH STEEL!” It cried, wrapping its arms across Benzaiten’s chest and squeezing so hard he couldn’t breathe. “Oh, I knew you had to be okay, Mistah Steel, I just knew it! The other officers were telling me that you got shot, by your own mother—and oh, boss, it was just like something out of the streams—but not like, in a good way, it made me never want to watch<em> In The Heart of Venus</em> again!—but I told them, I<em> told</em> them, if anybody can miraculously come back to life—and/or not be shot in the first place, and/or make a miraculous, heroic recovery—it would be <em>you,</em> Mistah Steel!” The—woman? Child? Force of nature?—cried, squishing him even tighter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think you’ve got me confused with somebody else,” Ben coughed from his oxygen-deprived lungs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Aw come on, boss, don’t be like that now. Don’t you—don’t you know how worried I’ve been?” And she started sniffling audibly into Ben’s jacket. “I thought that you were—” she cut off there, choking something close to a sob, and Benzaiten was powerless to do anything but awkwardly pat the top of her head. They stood there for a bit, her sniffling against him until she stopped shaking with silenced sobs. “And—and—so I—I’m really just happy to see you’re okay, boss.” Her voice was still teary. She stepped away, and wiped at her eyes. “Hey, what happened to your scar? Did it get erased, or something, when you were off taking down murderers?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ve never had a scar,” Ben said. “And I really think you have me confused with someone else.” He had a feeling, too, that he knew exactly who.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What? But—“ she went quiet for a second, quieter than she’d ever been in this entire encounter. “…You’re really not Mistah Steel, are you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m Benzaiten.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh—I see. Mistah Steel talks about you sometimes.” Her voice was soft. Quiet, trembling. “I don’t suppose he really is okay, is he?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His throat felt tight. “No,” He said, looking at the ground. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh—I see.” Her voice wavered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You knew Juno?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, yeah! I’m Rita, I’m his—“ She cut off. “I was his secretary.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s nice to meet you, Rita.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Thief Without a Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“I’m taking some time off,” he said.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> “You wanna say that again, Steel? Because I think I just heard you say that you wanted time off, and you know what kinda position that puts me in.” Vicky said. “Even after, y’know, <em>everything</em>, you’re still one of my best Vixens, Steel, and that means that if you’re gone, I lose money. A lot. And if you’re gone too long, people are eventually gonna lose interest, and forget about ya, so even when you do come back,  I’ll still be making less than I would’ve before—“</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> “Hear me out, Vic, hear me out.” He said, “It’ll be good, alright? Here, the intergalactic ballroom dance festival is coming up, yeah? I’ll hop on the first shuttle to Saturn, rep the valley all the way through, and by the end, you’ll have more customers than you’ll  know what to do with.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> “You dance ballet, Steel.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> “I choose to dance ballet,” he said, “that doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> “All the Vixens know a basic box step. That doesn’t mean anything, I wouldn’t have hired you if you were hopeless at it—“</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> “Vicky,” he says, “Trust me. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t think it would work.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> “Fine,” she said, “but you better win, you hear me, Steel?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course,” he said. His smile, like any good Vixen’s, was more confident than he actually was. But unlike every other Vixen, he’d learned that trick long before the Valley, and he’d gotten good at it. Good enough to trick Vicky, even. He didn’t use it too often—any Vixen knew better than to push their luck. But even though he knew ballroom, he’d even won competitions before, it had been months—at least—since he had done it seriously, and most importantly: he didn’t have a partner.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> But he couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t. He loved his job at the Valley, he always had—there wasn’t a lot of work for professional dancers in Hyperion, and very few that paid as well as the Valley, outside of the Hyperion ballet corps. But there were rumors that the Hyperion ballet was going to be taken over by the Kanagawas, and, well. As much as baby Benzaiten had dreamed about the HC ballet, Ben liked all of his limbs in tact, thanks. So Vicky’s it’d have to be. Especially since—even with his new roommate—Benzaiten’s finances couldn’t depend on freelancing the dance competition circuit alone. But he couldn’t stay here. Not right now, at least. He thought he could, for a while. He slept in the Valley’s backroom and he tried to ignore everything. And that worked, for a while. When he wasn’t doing anything.When he didn’t have to go back to work and put on his vixen face and smile and listen to everyone as though clocking out didn’t fill him with a completely irrational sensation of dread and anxiety.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> So, he and Rita had came up with this plan one night, after probably too much ice cream and definitely too many bad streams.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “So how’d it go?” Rita asked, the second he stepped into their apartment.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, she agreed,” he said.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh boy! That’s great, Mistah Ben! Soon enough, you’ll be speeding through the galaxy without a care in the world!”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Rita.” Ben said. “I still don’t have a dance partner. The competition is in three weeks.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “No problem! Just get your good pal Rita here to be your partner.” She bounced. “Sure, I mean, I don’t know how to ballroom dance, but how hard can it be? You can teach me! Oh, it’ll be just like that stream, <em>Dirty Dancing 256: So You Think You Can’t Dance? </em>Y’know, where the alien from a far off outer rim colony whose culture doesn’t even have dancing suddenly must compete to win a ballroom dancing trophy or else the starship captain she’s in love with won’t ever look at her—”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “—I think I’ll ask some of my old partners first, Rita, but thanks anyway.” He didn’t think that explaining that learning to ballroom dance in two weeks was a lot harder than the streams made it seem would go over very well.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> They’d only moved in together by happenstance; he couldn’t keep sleeping in the back of the Valley, Rita had an open room. Ben had figured it’d be the kind of roommate agreement most people in Hyperion had, where you saw your roommate as little as possible and generally kept to yourself. As it turned out, Rita was physically incapable of not inserting herself into the lives of whoever was around her like some kind of extremely joyful parasite, so their actual relationship was a hell of a lot different than expected. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> Benzaiten liked it, though. Rita was nice. He could see why Juno had liked her.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Well alright, but if you change your mind, I’m right here!” </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Thanks, Rita.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> He shot off a couple of messages on his comms to some old acquaintances, who, last he checked were still in the biz. There was nothing left to do but wait, he figured, and also shot off an order to his and Rita’s favorite pizza joint. He was ready to spend the night binging whatever B stream Rita had got her hands on this time. Someone would have to get back to him soon.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Nobody got back to him. Or rather, people got back to him, but only to tell him they couldn’t. Julian Dimaggio had gotten married, Nathalia had decided to switch careers and finally go into painting, Cielle had gotten into the Venusian Opera Ballet Corps, and all the rest were going to the competition with partners of their own.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> Leaving Benzaiten with no one. If Juno had still been here, Ben could’ve gone with him—but if Juno had still been here, none of this would be happening at all.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Cheer up, Mistah Ben,” Rita said. “I’ll learn how to dance for you!”<br/>“Dancing’s hard, Rita,”he sighed. “I don’t think you can learn it in time.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I understand,” She said. “I kinda figured when you weren’t that big on the idea of recreating <em>Dirty Dancing 340.</em> But maybe if you just claim me as your partner on the sign up form, you can meet somebody at the competition who you could dance with?Like in<em>Flash Dance 5: True Love on the Dance Floor,</em> where the leading lady is determined to get back against his ex by stealing their dance partner?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “That…Actually isn’t that bad of an idea.” He said. He’d heard dozens of stories, back when he competed more often, about various pairs breaking up or one of them getting injured or sick days before the competition. Whether that was just bad luck or sabotage didn’t really matter, the result was still the same. “Well then, do you wanna be my dance partner, Miss Rita?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> She smiled. “I’d love to.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “And Rita?” He said. “If you ever really do want to learn how to dance, just ask, okay? I’d love to teach you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “That’d be nice, Mistah Ben.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> The Intergalactic Ballroom Dance Competition drew spectators from all over the solar system, and even a fair amount of the Outer Rim. All of which was to say that, for the ultra rich and/or ultra talented, it was the event of the season, so long as you were interested in old-earth dancing. Thousands of people from all over gathered on one little Saturnian moon, to dance, watch, judge, and likely get incredibly drunk off of champagne while doing any and all of those things. It should have been a recipe for disaster: close quarters, alcohol, bad decisions, and traditionally romantic pastimes? Hell, the one time Benzaiten had gone before, when the conference was held in Hyperion, six dance teams had broken up and reformed on their floor of the hotel <em>alone</em>. Which was why it was absolutely insane that this year everyone seemed to be perfectly happy, not a domestic problem in sight. Then again, Ben thought, maybe it wasn’t the dance conference that was so strange. Maybe Hyperion just brought out the worst in people.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Aaaaand rock step, yeah.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re doing great, Rita.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Aw, thanks, Mistah Ben, but you don’t gotta flatter me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “No, really, you’re picking this up a lot quicker than I thought you would.” It was true. He’d never have imagined it, but Rita picked up the basics a hell of a lot faster than any other student he ever had. He supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised—after living with her for three months, and the day-long shuttle ride to the conference, he’d figured out that Rita’s brain just worked differently from most people’s. More specifically, Rita’s brain worked at hyper speed. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> Still, not even Rita could develop the muscle memory to become a professional ballroom dancer in less than two weeks, no matter how good she was at picking stuff up or how often they practiced. She’d gotten to a point where she’d have a great time at any electro-swing dance hall on Venus, sure, but they hadn’t even managed to touch the kind of tricky, show-boat moves that had gotten him his job at Vicky’s. They still had a ways to go before even attempting aerials, no matter what Rita said about how <em>worse comes to worse, you can always just pick me up and throw me at the judges, Mistah Ben, I’m certain it’ll look really cool, just like in </em>The Fast and the Furious: Dancing Edition,<em> y’know!—</em>because aerial safety was important, and also that was nowhere near how aerials worked.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s getting late Mr. Ben,” Rita said. “We better hurry if we wanna get to that party on time.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Right,” he said. “Can’t miss out on that free champagne, yeah?”<br/>“And free snacks!” She beamed. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course.” He said, twirling her out one last time. </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> He had thrown on his best dancing clothes, the ones he used to wear back in the clubs in Hyperion, the swishy number that did its best to proclaim: <em>I’ll lead or follow, just get me out onto the dance floor now. </em>It’d been guaranteed to pull him at least a couple of dances out of even the most stingy of crowds, and tonight was no different, even if they had mainly been from stuttering donor-types excited to dance with someone who really knew what he was doing. Still, he had a plan. Rumor had it that René and Octave Lamoreaux were on the verge of splitting up, and if Ben could pull one of them away from making passive-aggressive comments at the other at just the right moment, then things might actually begin to work out.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> He took a breath, finished the rest of his champagne, and readied himself to cross the room to break up their latest fight. And then—</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> A man grabbed his hand and whirled him into a tango across the dance floor. Now, if Ben hadn’t grown up being dragged into the antics of Mick Mercury and…co, and <em>also</em> if Ben hadn’t been the type to always be down for a dance no matter with who no matter when, Benten probably would’ve ended up tripping and falling on his face. As it was, however, he’d developed more of a relax-completely-and-make-snarky-remarks instinct rather than a fight-or-flight instinct, so when the man whirled him out onto the dance floor, Ben just spun in and let it happen. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “So sorry about the intrusion, but I just saw you standing alone there and I thought it was just <em>tragic</em>,” the man sighed dramatically, “So I immediately had to avail myself to you, of course. After all, it would be criminal, absolutely criminal, to just leave you there without a partner, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> Benzaiten raised an eyebrow and said nothing.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “After all, it is a beautiful party! And to leave such beautiful company with a dance partner, well, it just doesn’t bear thinking.” The man sighed again, spinning Ben out and in again as they crossed the dance floor in long, elegant strides. “And you are an <em>exceptional</em> dancer.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> Yeah, okay, this had gone on long enough. For one, while the guy was objectively handsome, he was nowhere near Ben’s type. The whole melodramatics and exotic cologne and homme fatale schtick? No way. <em>Some people </em>might’ve found it attractive, Ben supposed, but then again, <em>some people</em> also had notoriously bad taste in partners in the first place, so—it didn’t matter. Also, well, Ben wasn’t an idiot. “So,” he drawled. “Do I get to know the name of the man using me as a getaway car?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I—I beg your pardon?” The man faltered. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> Ben flipped their handhold, taking the leading position, and reversed their course across the dance floor. “This whole song, we’ve just been moving one direction.” He said, “Also, every time we’ve passed by security, my head has been in front of yours.” He spins the man into a dip. “Now, you could say that’s all coincidence,” he said, “If I couldn’t feel the old-earth diamonds in your pocket.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I—“</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Relax, I’m not gonna turn you in,” Ben rolled his eyes. He sure as hell didn’t care if some old necklaces got pickpocketed at a gala. If it hadn’t’ve meant the end of professional dancing forever, he probably would’ve done the same himself, back when he and—back when he was younger and money was tight. “I just wanna know who I’m bailing out, y’know?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> The man was silent for a moment. “Yuki Prince,” he said eventually. “Yourself?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Benzaiten Steel.” He said. Then— “Y’know, you’re a pretty good dancer.”<br/>“…Thank you?”<br/>“How do you feel about making some money as well as stealing it?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m afraid that’s not really my style.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Even if it just involves a few dances with a gentleman?” He bats his eyelashes. Never let it be said that Benten Steel was above flirting to get his way.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “As much as it pains me to turn down a face like that, I’m getting the impression that you‘re more interested in the dancing than the company.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Guilty as charged.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “You want me to enter the competition.” He deadpanned, raising a skeptical eyebrow. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “As my partner. Yes.” He said. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> The man simply stared, unimpressed.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “If it also helps, I’ve been told I make a great alibi.” He offered. “And sponsor types tend to get a bit starstruck around the talent. So much that things can go missing, sometimes, without anyone being aware of it…like, for example, those bracelets that used to be in your pocket.” He said. “You’re not the only one with sticky fingers, hotshot.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Risky move, stealing from a thief like that.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “What can I say,” Ben grinned, the kind of grin Oldtown kids wear when they managed to slink out of the HCPD without another misdemeanor on their record. “I like my chances.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Hm.” The man sighed, spinning Benten into a dip. “You’re sure I can’t convince you of my charms?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Not gonna happen.” Ben tended to prefer the pretty, kind, and just so, so dumb, variety of humans. You always knew what to expect. Guys like this were pretty, sure, but dangerous. In Hyperion, you never got this pretty unless you knew how to weaponize it.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Pity.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll see you tomorrow at noon. Don’t be late.” Benzaiten said as the song ended and he slipped away. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, I’ll have you know I’m never late, Mr. Steel. Punctuality is the politeness of princes,as my father always said.” Yuki Prince grinned with a fox’s teeth smile. “I’ll see you then.” Then he disappeared into the crowd.</span>
</p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> Even despite all of that he didn’treally expect the thief to show. It was too much of a long shot, too risky. Aside from a couple of bracelets, there was nothing holding the thief to his end of the bargain, and Benten was certain the man was here for a bigger prize than that.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> So when the man actually did show, just before curtain call, Benten was just a little bit shocked.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “You came.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Why, of course I did,” the thief said. “Did you truly doubt me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not like you gave me a reason not to.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Such little faith, Mr. Steel. Tell me, do youbelieve these things of all of your dance partners, or simply the ones you’re attempting to extort?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Touche.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> Yuki Prince sidled in close enough for Benzaiten to smell his undoubtably expensive cologne. “I take it you have the item you took from me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Not on me right now. I’ll give it to you when we’re done.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “You’ll forgive me if I find myself reluctant to go on your word alone.”<br/>“You’ll forgive me if I can’t take you at yours.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Then it appears we are at an impasse.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> People were motioning them forwards. It was time for the competition to begin. “You better make your mind up fast, then.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> With a melodramatic sigh, the thief offered his hand. “I suppose so.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “How’s your Outer Rim Quartet?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Luckily for you, spectacular.”</span>
</p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">They entered the dance floor. The music started, and Benzaiten remembered what it felt like to fly.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> It was beautiful. And then it was over.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Now," Prince said, adjusting his jacket as they left the dance floor. "My bracelets?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Hang on,” Benten said. “Here they come.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> Like clockwork—or maybe, more like a little windup clockwork toy— Rita rushed towards him. “Mistah Ben, Mistah Ben, Mistah Ben!” She shouted. “Oh my god you were so beautiful out there! All graceful and spinny… it was just like <em>Shall We Dance 56</em>, but like, the original Neptunian version, not the Martian remake—I never understood why they did that, the Neptunian version is just fine, it’s got subtitles <em>and </em>hieroglyphics—“</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Rita.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Right. Anyway this was all just to say that oh, Mistah Ben you just looked so pretty out there I could’ve cried.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Rita, do you have that thing I told you to hold on to?’</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Huh? Yeah, sure.” She said, and reached out of her pockets to dump a mass of shiny gold bracelets into his waiting hands. “Though why you’re such a big fan of ‘em is beyond me, I think those gems are kinda weird looking. You should tell your friend he should get better taste in jewelry! Y’know, Franny used to know a guy who made just the prettiest earrings and necklaces, I can get you his number if you want?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “No, thank you.” Yuki Prince said, in the dumbstruck manner most people had the first time the interacted with Rita.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah well, suit yourself.” She said. “Still, you were just beautiful on that dance floor Mistah Ben, and I just know you’re gonna win this one! Nobody had any moves as good as that spinny jump thing you did during the quickstep,and I’m just so glad you managed to find a partner as good as Mistah—I’m sorry what’s your name again?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Prince. Yuki Prince.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Ooooh that’s a lovely name. Y’know I used to watch this old stream about a guy named Yuki—well, actually it was about this girl, but there was a boy named Yuki, and—ohmygod Mistah Ben they’re about to release the scores!”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “You go on ahead without me, Rita.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “But Mistah Ben! The scores!”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “They’ll still be the same after I say goodbye to Yuki here.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I have to catch an early shuttle, I’m afraid,” Prince said with a dramatic sigh. “There’s only so much of this vast, grand universe that can be seen, and I intend to see as much of it as I can.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, if you’re sure…”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “It’ll be fine, Rita. Go and check the scores for me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> She nodded once, and then scurried away. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Benten turned back to Prince with a fistful of gold and diamonds. “Well, I guess this settles us.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I suppose so,” said Prince, pulling out a magnifying glass and inspecting the bracelets one by one. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I do still have one question though?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Why did you agree to dance with me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Well,” Prince said, pocketing the bracelets after a thorough inspection. “It does help that those bracelets you stole from me actually have microchips embedded in the diamonds which act as a personal key to the bank account of an incredibly eccentric but fashionable billionaire.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Or I suppose I could mention how my old plan to escape this conference had been compromised, and so I needed to invent a new one—becoming a contestant, while certainly more flashy than I’d hope for, was a far less suspicious cover than any others which immediately came to hand.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “That makes sense too, I guess.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “But while those reasons did make up the base of my decision, there was a slightly more embarrassing reason, I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I…enjoyed. Dancing with you.” He said. “You’re very good at what you do.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I—thank you?” Ben said. “I like to think so, at least.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not very often I get to do things I enjoy in this line of work, Mr. Steel, and even less when they involve a dance with a man like yourself.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “A handsome one?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> The thief simply laughed. “Of course! But no. I think you might’ve been right when you said we wouldn’t suit each other, Mr. Steel. You’re not exactly my type either.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I prefer them a bit more—morally outraged.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> The thief smiled, and the setting sun of Saturn turned his bleached hair a dusty rose color. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Your real name isn’t Yuki Prince, is it?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m afraid not,” the thief said. “But I hope you don’t expect me to tell you what it is. A gentleman must keep some secrets, after all.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “It would take a very special person for me to tell my name to them, Mr. Steel, and I’m afraid we’re just not there.” He said, brushing back a strand of hair which managed to escape its perfect coif. “Perhaps if I’m ever on Mars, I’ll look you up.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “I think I’d like that.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, then,” he said, with an overdramatic bow. “Until we meet again, Mr. Steel.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> “Until then.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"> Just like that, the thief disappeared into the Saturnian sunset. </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, it's been (checks watch)... six months, but this AU has been haunting me for ages, and the thought of Ben meeting Peter was too good to ignore. I hope all of y'all enjoyed the adventures of Ben and Rita, Space Roommates &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>